
SID 
SAYS 





Qass 

Bonk 



GpiillN?. 



SID SAYS 



SID SAYS 



r^XU 



BY 

JOHN M. SIDDALL 

Editor of The American Magazine { 




NEW YORK \ 

THE CENTURY CO. j 

mil 

] 

i 






CopfTicbt, 1917. by 
Tmb Ccvtvbt Co. 

CatfHgkl. Ittt. by 

r^ktiMk^d, Hfpifmbfr. ma 



J 

SEP 20 1917 



TO 

J. J. S. 



Introducing 
John M. Siddall 



John M. Siddall was born in Oberlin, 
Ohio. His father and mother, realiz- 
ing the necessity for supplying the boy 
with the right kind of ammunition in 
the campaign of life, loaded him up at 
Oberlin College and tamped the charge 
down at Harvard. From that intelli- 
gence armory young Siddall stepped 
into the reporters' room of the Cleve- 
land Plain Dealer; from there to the 
Chautauquan Magazine; thence to the 
editorial staff of McClure's Magazine, 
and finally to The American Magazine, 
of which publication he became editor- 
in-chief in 1915. A swift journey from 

vu 



OJ>crIin to the main batten* of oppor- 
tunity. 

Along the road ht* had iK-cn ^thcr- 
ing iMiwdcT and shot with which to firt* 
upon readers. Hi* had pa.vst*d through 
every rank in the grand anny of ex- 
perience and knew what he was gun- 
ning for. 

One perftTt day he loaded the old- 
faiihioncd puinp-giin of anihition which 
never cxplcMlcs prcniatiirrly or dislo- 
cates one's shoulder. t<N>k dch'UTntc 
aim, and let fly liis first slug of **Sid 
Says. ' A rt gimcnt of readers fell un- 
der this lire of wis<lom, poured into tlie 
trenches of douht. The battle raged 
fiercely from week t*) week. Tlu- cam- 
paign V iKhu'ted by a gunner <li- 
recting his fire from a revolving chair 
against the central powers of medi- 
ocrity, detonating his butteries with the 
s|Mirk of genius. 



IX 

Conceding the justification for all 
twelve-inch ordnance fired in the name 
of democracy, and with the sincere hope 
that the parliament of man in the feder- 
ation of the world is not far remote, let 
us now observe what "Sid Says" in the 
following pages, confident that they 
will continue to serve, long after the 
world is disarmed, the excellent pur- 
pose for which they were written. 

I now resign to your hands this 
White Book, from the pen of a white 
man, guided by the white light of ex- 
perience. 

Robert H. Davis. 

Written at the seventh hole of the 

Dunwoodie Golf Club, 

Yonkers, New York, 

July 27, 1917. 



Sid 



Says. 



PAGE 

1. To Get Thoroughly Married 

Takes Time and Trouble ... 3 

2. Men Can't Be Geared Up — Unless 

They Are Cheered Up ... 7 

S. A Great Ancestor Would Be All 
Right if So Many Outsiders 
Didn't Butt In 11 

4. Let 's Break Away from Grand- 

daddy 15 

5. This Is a Want Ad for a World- 

beater 20 

6. Strive as We Will — Our Brows 

Slope Gently Downward ... 23 

7. Some Poetry Is Made to Be Heard 

— Not Heeded 27 

8. You Can Go Further if You Take 

Others With You 31 

xi 



XII 

9. Good BaAiift Dox't Am. Tkatkl Tt» 

Sams Wat ^0 

lU. CoKfiDBM Your Rab* — Tiivv Amm 

Not Pviir.Lv I)eioii%tive ... 41 

II. Doh't Get A.Mioi . Ai.it Nkw 
Yo«K: IjtT N«w \uuik Grr Am- 
lovi Aftot'T You 46 

IS. It Is 55omTiv l^rTrm to Rimain 
A Bosk Tiiv.n iw Makk YocssLr 
Too iNTCnirrnNcj 31 

18. Some Miuhtv (t«'<Mi Salabibi Go to 
Men Who Woild Alm«»»t *• Siu»M 
Womb fob .N'otiiino ^ 

1ft Do.h't Hblibtb Rvkbttiiiko Yoim 

Koo Tell* Vm 59 

15. .Sow That Wt iiwi: Hor«.MT Them 

— Lrr'i UiBV Them' «« 



16. A Mail Cabmiem I» Not the Only 
Ohi Who 11 At TO Keep on Dbut- 

BBtWO 



M 



17 Hrnt It A New Siit or Clothi ^ i.»m 

Some Old Ideas 70 

18. Ir Thu Be CoMTBiirT or Coibt — 

Send Me thb Bill . Tt 



Xlll 

19. It's the Encores People Call for 

That Make Lying Difficult . 78 

20. If Your Ego Bothers You — Go 

Look at the Stars 81 

21. Money Talks — but There Are 

Other Speakers 86 

22. Considering Who Grandpa Was — 

We 're Not So Bad .... 90 

23. It Is Hard to Tell How Numb a 

Young Skull Is 94 

24. I Will Hang This on Balboa — Be- 

cause He Has Had His Fun and 

Is Dead 99 



SID SAYS 



To Get Thoroughly 

Married Takes Time 

and Trouble 



SOME people don't understand 
marriage. They think — ^before 
tackhng it anyway — that it is a natural 
institution. Their idea is that man by 
nature first loves and then marries. 

Now the love part is natural, but the 
marriage part is an artificial scheme 
worked out by Society to prevent too 
frequent changes in the organization. 
Society finds a couple of youngsters 
who have a natural attraction for each 
other and it says to them: "Now, is n't 
this nice! You two think a lot of each 
other, don't you? And you don't want 

3 



to loee each other, uf course! Isn't it 
a shame you can't sec each otiicr except 
when Ma or Aunt Henrietta is honicf 
I wcuidcr if there is n't Miinethin^ wc can 
flo alxHit it. Sny, how wmihl this httle 
plan of mine do — marriage.' All you 
have t^) do is to agree to it and 81^11 a 
little document. Then vou can live to- 
Kether. Yes? You like itf All right 
— just put your names Aown here. 
There now. That 's line! Just the 
thing!" 

Then the young folks learn for them- 
selves the (lilferenee In-tween love and 
marriage. They learn that while love 
may turn out to he the short liaul, mar* 
riage is the long haul. I^ve may get 
tired and want to (|uit l)efore the piano 
needs tuning, hut marriage nms right 
in\ through the \Vcjrlcrs Fair, Roose- 
velt's administration and the o|>ening of 
the Panama Canal. It Ixrcomes the one 



permanent job of life — a job hard to 
resign from and difficult to get fired 
from. Some people get so disgusted 
they can't stand it any longer and give 
up in a huff. But there stands Society, 
pointing the finger of shame at them 
and calling them welchers and quitters. 
Others work at the job indifferently, 
never win success, never quite fail, and 
go on from year to year afraid to give 
up, but dazed and mystified until the 
end of their days. Some glare at each 
other like meat axes. Others hate each 
other in their hearts, but for the sake 
of children or for other reasons live in 
a state of armed peace under a flag 
of truce. In cases of this kind both 
usually derive enormous self-satisfac- 
tion out of the fortitude and self-control 
which they display. Many work capa- 
bly, unselfishly and energetically at the 
job and make a great success of it. To 



such as do the job well the rcwartU arc 
greater than any to bet obtained dae- 
whcrc in the world. 

In business, if you make a ^reat toe- 
oeaa» there may conic a time wben peo- 
ple begin to suggest that you ougiit to 
get out and give others a chance. Not 
80 with marriage. If you win out in 
matrimony nolxxly wants you to quit. 
You arc never su|HTarmuate<l or put on 
a pension. If you make a aueceai 
ever\!H>dy wants you to keep right on, 
stay in tlie neigh iNirhood, and come 
around for the evening. 

Marriage furnishes ever>' man a 
chance to be a great num. In the nur- 
ried relation a yoimg man can be as 
wise as Washington, as entertaining as 
Ijn(^>h) and as diplomatic as Hismart^k. 
No married man ever has the right in 
stand up liefore tlie world and claim tliut 
he has n*t had opportuniti(*s. 



Men Can't be Geared 

Up — Unless They are 

Cheered Up 



I USED to know a man who was a 
wonder at taking the heart out of 
those who worked under him. He was 
the original kill- joy — a paragon of pes- 
simism. He would roll over on any one 
who showed enthusiasm, and flatten him 
out until he looked like a punctured toy 
balloon. I don't think he intended to 
do all the damage he wrought. He 
simply did not know any better. 

His specialty was criticism. The 
minute you approached him with a sug- 
gestion he got out his instruments and 

7 



ainput.itMl ymir new idea, Tlicn he 
tmtluti you with on antiseptic wa.sh of 
^l(M)iiiy wonU calcuhitcd to rt-iulcr you 
iininunc to the developinent of any 
fre^h outpouring of inspiration. If 
some one did a good job in the offiee» 
this man, who hap|)ened to be the boss, 
wouhi (^me around and cheer him up by 
teUing him liow it could have been done 
l)etter. lie never even admitted that 
a good job had l)een done at all, l>ut im- 
me<liat<.ly set alnait to iH)int out imper- 
feetions in the work. In his line, which 
was criticizing, he held the world's 
championship. If he had been present 
at the creation of the earth, which is 
said to have l)een put over (piite cleverly 
in r(*i*ord time, he would have hinted that 
the thing could easily have Irtu done in 
five days instead of six — and |K)ssibly 
by Friday luxm, or in four and a half 
days, if certain precautions had been 



9 

taken and if the work had been more 
efficiently laid out with a view to speed. 

The man about whom I write this 
heartfelt tribute is dead. While he 
lived he was about as popular as the 
hives. Nobody derived any benefit 
from him. But when he passed away 
he left behind him (in other minds) a 
thought. Here it is: 

If you have people working for you, 
one way to encourage them to do more 
and better work is occasionally to pick 
out instances where they have shown 
signs of ability, and commend them. 
Any worker, particularly a young 
worker, is likely to be unable to discrimi- 
nate between his good work and his 
poor work. If you are his boss it is 
up to you to help him distinguish be- 
tween the two. It is also up to you to 
take the young man in hand and explain 
to him why the good job is good and 



10 

why the |)o<»r joh in poor. I n ibr first 
instance he will l)e hearing •omcthing 
pleasant and inspiring, and in the sec- 
ond inst Alice he will l>e in a better mood 
to listen to ynti. Vou can also depend 
ii{M)n it that the man who is intelli>^*ntly 
praised for a ^kkI piece of work will try 
to duphcate that work so tliat he may 
earn more praise. 

These ^K>om boys — like the one I 
have cliararterizetl aliove — keep an of- 
fice so dark with their doiihts that no- 
body can see where to go. 



A Great Ancestor 

Would he All Right 

if so Many Outsiders 

Didn't Butt In 



A MAN tackled me for a job the 
other day. After enumerating 
his various accompUshments he wound 
up with a final claim that was intended 
to impress me with his importance once 
and for all. He said that he was a direct 
descendant of Bishop Ump-t-ump — ^the 
most learned man of his time in Eng- 
land. I asked what time that was, and 
he said that it was about four hundred 
years ago. I told him that — allowing 

twenty -five years for each generation — 

11 



1« 

be must tic the sixteenth cletcenrtant 
"No. not tlie sixteenth/* he said, "but 
the fifttrnth/' -All riK»it;' T ^id. 
•'call it the fifteenth. Now Id s lake a 
sheet of jm|KT and see what yonr cre- 
dentials reallv are. Ixrt 's see — you had 
one fallur and one niotlier, two ^and- 
fathcrs and two grandinotheni, four 
^freat-grand fat hers and four great- 
^andniothers. eight great-great-grand- 
fatluTs and tight great -great-grand- 
mnthers — and so on.** 

Carrying the niultiplieation Imck to 
the fifteenth preeeding generation I 
showed that at the time tlie hishop lived, 
my friend, the applieant, had exactly 
8*J.708 ancestors. In other words, the 
hishop was only one of the 8*2,708 hu- 
man In-ings who were his foreliears at 
that time. 

**You have mentioneil the Inshop, hut 
what about the (»ther ;i*.'.707f** I askod. 



13 

"It seems to me that I ought to hear 
something about them if I am to judge 
you by the good blood which you say 
is in you. The bishop was all right. 
You are lucky to have as much of him 
in you as you have. But the bishop's 
stock has been considerably watered. I 
don't believe he would recognize you. 
What about the rest?" 

That is the trouble with this heredity 
game — if you carry it back very far. 
Old Mother Nature is a wonderful lev- 
eler. Apparently her idea is to carry 
the race forward together, and not to 
play favorites. She won't let geniuses 
or boneheads breed in a straight line. 
To the weak she frequently gives a child 
of incredible talent — to keep the neigh- 
bors from getting abusive. To the bril- 
liant and favored of the earth she often 
presents a choice piece of ivory in the 
shape of a dull son. If Nature did n't 



u 

protect tl>c rest of us in this inaiincr. it 
would n't be long until we would all be 
working for one family, made up en- 
tirely of giants. 

AnotluT feature of the selicme is that 
it keeps us all interested. Surprises 
abound on all sides. There is no telling 
where the next world-beater and the 
next dunce are coming from. 



LiCt 's Break A way 
from Granddaddy 



I AM for woman suffrage, or almost 
any kind of suffrage. I would 
have just as many voters as possible. 
There are too few, rather than too many. 

The whole human race is given over 
to the granddaddy theory: "Now just 
you leave everything to me. I know 
best, and I will decide. You are not 
smart enough, or you are a woman, or 
you are a foreigner, or you have n't had 
the experience. Anyway, I am your 
grandpa, and I know what is what and 
I will tell you what to do." 

Everybody wants to do that. We all 
do: we all want to boss. We all want 
to keep other people from sharing au- 

15 



16 

thiirilv with us. \\\ all want fiftv-onc 
jHT cent, of the stcKk. Wc want con- 
trol. 

And what is the result? The women 
and all the rt^t who do not enjoy the 
suffrage have an everU^ting **alihi.** 
Thev have an exaise. Tliev would 
have done thin^ difTi-rently if they had 
had the say. No, sir! I would j^ivc 
them all a chance — if for no other rea- 
son, just to find out for once how little 
the whole crowd, acting together, really 
knows. It might teach the human race 
a little humility. Out of tlie e.\|)eriencc 
there miglit grow a more enlightened 
IkhIv politic. I would give the suffrage 
freely just as an educational aid. I 
would sav: '*There it is! Take it, if 
you want it. If you can do anything 
with it. all right. All the tools for your 
improvement in the world arc at vntir 
dis|>osal.*' 



17 

Frankly, I presume that an extended 
suffrage might mean a worse world for 
the time being. I have an idea that 
things might grow worse before they 
got better. But what of it? It seems 
to me that unless there is something in- 
herently wrong in the ballot it is foolish 
to keep it away from this person and 
give it to that person. Why not give 
it to all who want it — who express a de- 
sire to use it? It seems to me that it 
comes right down to this point of the 
inherent right or wrong of it. If it is 
inherently right, a good thing in itself, 
how can you predict who will make the 
best use of it? If it is aimed to benefit 
all those who are using it, why might it 
not benefit others ? 

In conclusion, let us refer to one other 
granddaddy idea: Granddaddies of 
all Idnds have the notion that the young 
or the inexperienced or the minority 



18 

st()cklK)liicr ur the out«»uicr is goinf( to 
grab A new in«itniinent for the |)ur|>ose 
of killing himself. Hitheulouai The 
old forf^-t the self-preM-Tving instinct of 
the young. The young have no idea of 
destroying themselves. Of course they 
make mistakes, but on the whole thev 
strive to improve tbciDaeIves« to save 
their own skins. If the young were as 
uiitnistwortiiy with their (jwn hides as 
some of their elders foolishly Indieve, 
H road way would !>e strewn ever)* morn- 
ing with the dead IxHiies of young men 
aad women who have come to the great 
ritv from the countn'. 

Ihit it is n*t. And such an instru- 
ment as the l)nll(»t is not going to !h* ns( <1 
l>v women or l»v anvlxnlv else for pur- 
jMisc's of general, or self, destnuiion. 
A greater dangiT lies in the |H)ssibility 
that the Imllot will interest too few. 

I should like to sec the world really 



19 

try sometime to find out what all the 
people can and will do. Everybody 
talks about democracy, but nobody 
wants to try it. 



This is (I Want Ad Jar 
a II ^orld-bcatcr 



IW'OXDKU uhen it is goin^ to be 
casicT lor |>co])lc to f^t thnni^i 
this world without being bored. The 
capacity of human U-ings to bore and 
Ik.' lM>rc(l is cnornuKis. 

Think of all the school children who 
arc l)cing lH>red. There they arc — 
millions of them — Ixittletl up in scIkhiI- 
houses patiently learning the art of try- 
ing to look interested in something that 
does n't interest them. When they gel 
out of schcMil they take up {Mist-grail- 
uate work along the same line. They 
go into the law. when they have real love 
for the dairy business, and into music, 

20 



21 

"•^■— ■— "^ 

when they are born hardware dealers. 
Schooled to beheve that they ought to 
like this or that, they are ready to try 
what is "expected" of them — to adopt 
other people's ideas of what would be a 
reputable and proper calling for "one 
of your position," and so on through a 
lot of foohshness. Anyway, they get 
off on the wrong tack and stay there. 

No wonder the world is filled with 
people who talk and talk about the good 
time coming when they can retire. To 
hear them complain about their work 
you might think they were in jail. 
They are. 

Every employer is familiar with this 
great Army of Misfits. They are hon- 
est. They try. But they have n't the 
joy of the game in their eyes. And to 
save your life you cannot tell how to re- 
lease their powers and give them wing. 

Apparently educational systems are 



tlu* cnni( st of all human instituti 
The IK ' cuius has not yet arri\ vxi 

— the nian who can show us bow to take 
a \m}\\ start with his best inclinations, 
and work out liis cihication, holding his 
interest, making liini proud rather than 
ajkhaincd of his enthusiasms, turning his 
enthusiasms to f^nod account, yet culti- 
vating discipline and self -control. A 
l)i^ job! No wonder the man needetl is 
hard to find, and slow in Iniardin^; what 
IIerl>ert (^uick calls **this gocxl hhip, 
earth." Hut he will arrive. There arc 
rumblings. 

In the meantime children are listen- 
ing for the three-o'clock bell, and won- 
dering wlirtlier the teacher's cold may 
not keep her home to-morn)W. 



Strive as We Will — 

Our Brows Slope 

Gently Downward 



ONE of the most amusing facts of 
life is that "Bud" Fisher, maker 
of newspaper comics, should get for his 
work fully ten times as much per year 
as ex-President Eliot of Harvard ever 
got. 

"Bud" makes $150,000 a year, and, 
although Dr. Eliot never confided in us 
about personal matters, we can make a 
mighty good guess that he never saw 
more than $15,000 a year in his life. 

Let 's be frank. Ex-President Eliot 
is a wonderfully smart man. We all 
respect him and feel that we are way 

23 



«4 

below him. Wo know tliat lie thinks 
deep tliou^ht.s niul knows liow to write 
thiiii down. We reahzc thnt if it were 
|M)ssihle to measure a man's hraiiui and 
abihty by dollars he would start in at 
about $10,000 a wedc and ^i a raise be- 
fore tlie end of the montli. But Dr. 
Eliot does n*t get the money. He can't 
get the- money. He can't brin^ it into 
the 1h)X oflii-c. 

Now the joke, if there is one, is not on 
Dr. Kliot: it is on us. Vou and I are 
the ones who deeide how mucli Dr. Kliot 
shall have and how nuieli "Hud** shall 
have. What is the explanation f The 
explanation is that we won*t pay any- 
thing like as nnieh for the di^iified im- 
|x*rsonal expression of principles and 
wisdom as we will pay for wisdom 
served, as "Bud" serves it, with "pep" 
and |K*rsonalities. 

There is still nfiotlirr way to pfet nt nn 



25 

understanding of "Bud." Take the 
cartoonist of the old school, who carica- 
tures public men and public events. 
Why does that kind of cartoonist have 
to be satisfied with less than "Bud's" in- 
come? The answer runs about this 
way: 

Human beings think first of them- 
selves. They can't help it. They are 
built that way. In this fact is found 
the reason why the modern newspaper 
comic strip is more popular than car- 
toons of public men or events. The 
newspaper comic, such as "Bud" and 
Goldberg draw, is about you and me. 
The old-fashioned cartoon is about 
somebody else — Woodrow Wilson or 
Theodore Roosevelt, for example — and, 
while you and I regard Wilson and 
Roosevelt as interesting, we cannot hon- 
estly say that we are as much interested 
in them as we are in ourselves. The 



26 

newspaper comic iimkcr. cither imtme- 
lively or by design* has discovered this 
truth. So, instead of giving us a pic- 
ture of Wilson or Roo«e\'eIt. he gives us 
a picture of a comical liappening ri^ht 
in our own Iwme or our o\*'n n(\\w. 
There in the picture is you^-^md there 
am / — and over there is that bonehead 
we know, wlio acts just tliat way. \Vc 
have seen him do tliat a thousand times! 
Oh, what an idiot he is! 

And MV wedged into the New Vcirk 
fubway, or on a Euclid Avenue car in 
Cleveland, we Icxik first at these pictures 
and chuckle over them. Afler uhich. 
with diminished enthusiasm, we pnx*ee«l 
to a solenm ainsideration of the news of 
the dav and tlie editor's discussion of lib- 

m 

eralism in Russia. 



Some Poetry is Made 
to be Heard — Not 
Heeded 



AFTER a lively day at the office I 
wedged into the subway the other 
evening, opened up a New York eve- 
ning paper, and found on the editorial 
page the following inspiring and cheer- 
ful line: 

Ambition has but one reward for all — ' 
A little power, a little transient fame, 
A grave to rest in, and a fading name. 

I began to wonder why I had gone 
down-town in the morning if this was all 
I was going to get out of it. Then I 
tried to imagine what good it would 

27 



have (l(Hic me to stay at home and sit in 
a nKkin^ ehair all ihiy. If my wife 
went out and brou^^lit me my evening 
|)aper, would n*t I \k just as unhappy 
when I eamc ujKjn the poet's wcinlsf 
If poets are going to "kid** me when I 
work and relative's when I loaf, what 
eai) I do? I can't hit off at one side 
on n htar and nuninnte on these mat- 
ters. I liave to mix around on earth, 
where life is real and ereditors are 
earnest. \\'hcre shall I go and how 
shall I managed What do you recom- 
mend, Mr. l*oetf I don't enjoy Ix-ing 
a i)oor miserable wonn any more than 
you enjoy string me one. 

As a matter of fact, the 'little |)ower" 
and the ''transient fame** which the iKxrt 
complains of are first*claas things to 
strive for. They are the best rewanls 
in the market. Tc» refuse to stni: 
for them i^ cowardly and unsi>ortsman- 



29 

like. The human being who won't play 
and take his part in the game of life is 
the most useless of creatures. Here we 
are on this earth NOW— not 100,000 
years ago or 100,000 years hence, but 
NOW. And here are others like us. 
Here is work to do and here are pleas- 
ures to enjoy. It is up to us to take 
hold and accept those forms of satisfac- 
tion which are available. Perhaps we 
shall all meet again in another existence 
where the rewards of ambition are bet- 
ter or, at least, different. If so, go 
after them when you get there, would be 
my advice. 

The poet who got up this dose of 
philosophy probably has not the slight- 
est idea of swallowing it himself. He 
had a fine time writing the lines, and 
probably he hopes that they will live! 
No doubt if you stole his poem and tried 
to palm it off as your own he would 



fhattite you. You would nut iiiul him 
irady to have his nanie fade yet« lie 
would fi^lit for luH rights, and f^^^^i to 
keep his work fnun Ixin^ annihilated — 
which is what we arc put in the world 
for. 

I)on*t order your life on the plans 
and .si>ccification8 laid down by a poet 
Kcmember that wimt a i>oet writes must 
rhyme. Often a iK'rfectly well-inten- 
tioned and optimistic |)oet wanders off 
into the gl(M>m factory looking for odd 
sizes ill metrical feet. A i)oct would 
rather sean well than Ije President 



Vou Can go Further 

if You Take Others 

with You 



IT is easy to understand how a man 
might be three or four or even ten 
times as successful in business as the 
general average of men. But when a 
man is a hundred or a thousand times as 
successful as his fellows we look on with 
amazement, and, because we cannot 
comprehend it, we usually say that he is 
a howling genius, and let it go at that. 
But calling a man a howling genius 
does not get us anywhere. It does not 
explain anything. It is an unsatisfac- 
tory definition, because it contains no 

31 



hint or Iiolp. Nobody knows exactly 
what a ^'nius is. 

Now. I am no diaL:ii<»stician of great- 
ness. I am just lis nmeh puzzled as 
anylnnly when it comes to defining 
the (lunlities thnt make for su{HTla- 
tivc achievement. Take, for example, 
Charles M. Schwab, whose story capti- 
vates the imagination of most men. 1 
cannot take Schwal) apart and show you 
why, starting as a day lalx)rer without 
influeiu^c or a dollar to his name, he has 
turned out to l>e what he is — a giant in 
the business world. Hut I know his 
story through and through, and as I 
have considered it this thought has come 
to me: 

'I'here are |)n»lnd»ly dozens of men in 
the st(*el business who know almost as 
mueh al)out that business as Schwab 
knows. Hut where other men concen- 
trate on tlieir own i>er2>onal contribution 



33 

to the perfection of some part of the 
business, perhaps some technical part, 
Schwab takes an enormous interest in 
studying and developing men whose tal- 
ents can be used in broadening and ex- 
tending the business. You will find 
that note running all through his story 
— a curious watchfulness for the new 
man and almost childhke enthusiasm 
when he discovers him. Take his de- 
light over Eugene Grace, for example. 
Grace was a switchman eight years ago, 
and now Schwab has made him presi- 
dent of the Bethlehem Steel Corpora- 
tion and his income is a million dollars a 
year. Schwab is so tickled over Grace 
that he can hardly hold himself in. He 
predicts that Grace will someday be the 
biggest industrial figure in America ! 

In other words, a man like Schwab, 
by finding and encouraging men, and 
by inspiring their loyalty, carries him- 



S4 

teir und all his tMociatcs oil to a 
which none of them a)uld achieve akxie. 
Ue establishes a lon^ Imttle line of or- 
ganiiation in which there are gnat 
niinil>crs of men iiitrlli^*iitly used and 
^-nuiiicly appreciated by a commander 
who rcali7x*s that his own success is mani- 
folded by the work of his aiisociatet. 

In business it is not tlic individual 
producer who gets the biggest or the 
surest rewards: it is the organization 
iMiilder. And any man, no matter how 
small his business, ought to recogniie 
that fact Uidess an employer is inter- 
ested in finding, training, holding and 
dividing with giNnl men, the busint*s.s he 
is engaged in can never grow. It will 
remain the work of one man; and the 
work of one man is bound to Ih* limited 
in size and pn>fits. 

Vou may think that you are in the 
aboe liusiness or the shirt luisimiis or the 



35 i 



furniture business — but you are mis- 
taken. After all is said and done, we 
are all in the same business — the man 
business — no matter what we make or 
sell. Some of the "big fellows" see that 
point more clearly than the rest of us do 
— and multiply their power and profits 
accordingly. 



Good I i rains Don't all 

Travel the Same 

Way 



1\ their iiK'iital oiMfrations I see 
uIkjuI uic all the time two ^^hj|>s of 
men — the nioM|uitc) licit ajul the ele- 
phant brigade. The uios(|uito boys 
think ({iiiekly. and dart to conclusions 
like li>^htiiing. Voii will gt't on opinion 
out of them instantly that will lie su|)e- 
rior to anv thev will lie able to priNluce 
after etiasiileration. The elephant Uiyg 
take more time, lliey move slowly. 
They like to think thin^ over. Ask 
them for an opinion, and they will do 
Mter if they meditate. 



37 

There is no special choice between 
these two groups. In each group there 
are quantities of men of great ability. 
I can at this moment think of two won- 
derful Presidents of the United States 
— one a mosquito and the other an ele- 
phant. 

As between men and women, it can 
be said in general that women are of the 
mosquito type. They pride themselves 
on their instinct for quick judgment. 
Men call it intuition. The "bright" boy 
at school is usually of the mosquito type. 
His intellectual performances are rapid 
and showy. He may or may not go on 
and succeed — but if he does make good 
he won't get any particular credit for it 
from his schoolmates, simply because 
they "always knew he was smart." It 
takes a successful elephant to go back 
to his class reunion and stir up enthusi- 
asm. Nobody expected much of him, 



and oooaequrntly even IkkIv is prepared 
to Applaud liis nchic'veinents. 

It is amusing to watch tlicst* twokindi 
of men meet. Tlie mosquitoc^s bother 
tlie elephants, and the eleplianU bother 
the mosquitoes. In games, espeeially, 
the irritation between tlic two rcmcbes ita 
height. If it is canis, the moaquito, 
with his leaping' mind, knows in a aeoond 
what he wants to do, while Uic elephant 
has to wait for liis inspiration. Some 
gamea are better adapted to one of these 
groups than to the other. Take chcas, 
for example — an admiral)le game for 
the elephant tyi>e of mind. There is a 
game wliirh two elephants can enjoy for 
a week at a stretch. 

The worst thing that can happen to a 
man is to think himself an elephant 
when he is a mosquito, or a moaquito 
when he is an elephant. Some of the 
most terrible mis6ts in the world are 



39 

misplaced elephants and misplaced mos- 
quitoes. For example, a mosquito and 
an elephant can go into law practice to- 
gether and supplement each other's tal-. 
ents beautifully. But the elephant had^ 
better keep out of court, where nimble-, 
ness of mind is peculiarly required. 

Another point is that the mosquitoes 
ought never to tease the elephants 
to try to take on mosquito-like speed. 
Neither should the elephants tease the 
mosquitoes to try to take on elephantine 
deliberation. It can't be done. Let 
every man work according to his own in- 
stinct. The minute he begins to imper- 
sonate somebody else he loses himself, 
and his judgments and decisions are of 
less value. 

As a final observation, it may be 
well to record the fact that both classes 
of men are entirely satisfied with 
their equipment. The mosquitoes think 



40 

tilt re is nothing m) ^natly to be desirc<I 
as Agility, and the elephants pride them- 
selves on their dehlK-ration. whieh is. I 
suppose, as it shcndd be— for without 
self-appreciation man would surrlv pr- 
ish. 



Consider Your Ears— 

They are not Purely 

Decorative 



HAVE you ever had a good din- 
ner for nothing? I had one the 
other night. It was absolutely free. I 
don't refer to the cost of the meal. I 
refer to the cost of the conversation. 

From start to finish I gave nothing 
and received everything. The man 
with whom I dined started in with his 
business and Ms ideas and his preju- 
dices, and thej^ were the only topics up 
for discussion throughout the entire 
evening. When he lagged in his mono- 
logue all I had to do was to prompt him 
with a question, and he was off again. 

41 



4f 

It WIS the eancst work I ever did. 1 
^ot the most with the lea.st efTurt. I s«y 
I gut the most — and I did. For he is s 
wooderfully clever man. If I should 
name him, most of ymi would reoognixe 
him. 

Hut in spite of all the interesting 
things be said, I must admit that I don't 
regard liim as really able — at least, I 
don't think he is as a))le as he mi^ht l)e if 
he showed more curiosity alK)ut the facts 
and ideas that are in the |M)ssession of 
others. Putting it difTcrently, 1 tliink 
he is a had trader. He gives too much 
and receives too little in return. Dur- 
ing this dinner I honestly think I got tlie 
best of him — simply because I gained 
a lot of useful infonnation while he was 
getting nothing except vocal exercise 
and the satisfaction Uiat i^iinrs from 
having an attentive listener, i'crhaps, 
indeed, there was nothing of value to 



43 

him in my point of view. But how did 
he know? He did not even try to find 
out. 

The fact has frequently been im- 
pressed upon me that nearly all really 
able men are eager devourers of other 
people's information and ideas. They 
are too good traders to be always giving 
and never receiving. They know better 
than to tap continually their reservoir 
of wisdom without setting a catch-basin 
for a new supply. Not long ago a 
journalist of my acquaintance went out 
to Chicago and had several extended 
talks with J. Ogden Armour in prepara- 
tion for some articles. When he re- 
turned to New York one of the first 
things he had to say was that Armour 
had asked him more questions than he 
was possibly able to ask Armour. 
Theodore Roosevelt is a human question 
mark. Peter Dunne (creator of "Mr. 



41 

Doolcy,** and one of the wisest men 
oil this plnnct ) never let* nn y ^i^TMss grovr 
under his feet if lie su.s|Hvts tlmt vtHi 
have a new fact or a fresh point of view 
eoneealed on your person. 

Ordinarily, the man who ccaaca to ttsk 
qucftioiis has ceased to learn. And 
wben a man ceases to leani he grows 
complnci*nt. Snui^ess sets in and he 
iK'^ins t<» deteriorate. The laek of euri- 
osity in n man is a si^i of a^e. Vou can 
he sure that you are getting old if you 
have lost curiosity. But old age — in« 
tclloctuttlly— comes on ver\' early with 
some jH-ople, ond with others it never 
seems to come. Many <»M jHt)|»le have 
younger and more eager minds than 
their ehildren. 

In New York rccentiv, Willie Col- 
lier put on a sliow tlmt has one extraor* 
dinary line in it. It is n line that 
might suggc-st a g<iod New Year's reso- 



45 



lution for many people. One of the 
characters says to another : "Say, don't 
you know that you were given one 
mouth and two ears for a purpose?" 



Don't Oct Anxious 

About AViu York: 

Let Neii) York Get 

yinxious ^Ihoiit 

You 



AN old friend ctDed to ask my ad- 
\icc Ujc other day. lie cmme to 
New York from a little Indiana to^-n. 
lie has a wife and four childrm — and a 
IKM)r job. As I talketl with him I kept 
picturing him where be belongi — bade 
in the old liome town. If lie had staved 
there he mi^ht have worked into a 
$1,000 or $1,200 job, which would have 
been sufTleient to sati.sfy all his needs and 
most of his wants. He could have had 
a garden, a yard, a savin^ri hank aecount 



47 

and a membership in the local lodge. 
Evenings he could have sat on his porch 
and held converse with his neighbors. 
On the Fourth of July he could have 
been "some punkins" at the neighbor- 
hood picnic. He might have become a 
village councilman; and when the fall 
campaign arrived, he could have been on 
the committee to welcome the congress- 
man when that great personage came to 
town in search of votes. In other 
words, he might have had a real place in 
the community. 

Now what does he get in exchange for 
the $1,000 or $1,200 that he earns in 
New York? Well, I suppose he gets a 
measly little flat with dark bedrooms, a 
fine assortment of cheap lunches, two 
chances daily to hang by his eyelids in 
the subway, a great fund of loneliness 
and a woe-begone feeling of uselessness. 

That is the trouble with these whaling 



48 

big cities like Xcu* Vork and Chimgn. 
They arc all right for men of known 
ahihty — men of force and ainl)ition wlio 
have learned how to direct their talents. 
But thev arc liard on untried men — men 
who have not vet found tlienuclves. 
This is not said for the purpose of scar- 
ing venturesome and unattached young 
fellows of al)ilitv who want to tn* their 
muscles on the !)ig town. There is no 
danger of scaring them. They cannot 
be scared. The morning trains arc 
bringing them in by the hundreds — 
this very day — and all the printing 
presses in the world could not drive 
them hack. I^ut it ijt said for the pur- 
|)ose of causing every small-town man, 
with responsibilities, to consider care- 
fully l)eforc coming whether he has a 
definite aim in coming, and whether he 
haa faith and conviction that he really 
has something to give to tlie big town. 



49 

Don't come just for the ride. Don't 
come except from positive choice. 
Don't come just because others are com- 
ing. The best rule of all is this — if you 
have no definite, compelling reason 
within yourself to come, don't come un- 
til you are invited. Do your job well 
at home. If the big town wants you 
she will call for you. A hundred tele- 
grams went out from New York to-day 
to various and remote parts of the 
United States carrying offers of good 
jobs to smart chaps who have done so 
well that New York has heard of them. 
Only last week I met a young man from 
Massachusetts who had just been of- 
fered an $8,000-a-year place in New 
York. He said he had n't the least idea 
how the thing started — except that he 
had done work that had been brought to 
the attention of several New York 
bankers, one of whom had looked him 



50 

up and then fUshctl him the ufTcr ui m 
job. 

So leave your name and address wiUi 
the li)cn\ o|>erator and gri back to your 
knitting. New York is not tongue- 
tie<I. 1 f she needs you she *ll wire. Of 
course, if you think you are a record- 
breaking genius you will probably take 
the first train for Hroadway — and 
nuiybe it will lie just aa well for you to 
do ao. A genius is just as urilinppy one 
place as another. But, genius or no 
genius, there won*t Ih.* any brass band to 
meet you when you arrive nt thr Grand 
Central Station. 



It is Sometimes Better to 

Remain a Bore than to 

Make Yourself too 

Interesting 



WHEN you are talking to a man, 
and when his interest in what 
you are saying begins to lag, a good way 
to resuscitate him is to lean forward and 
say: "What I am now going to tell 
you is in the strictest confidence. You 
must not breathe a word of it." Or- 
dinarily one who has that said to him 
will wake up and pay better attention 
to your conversation — at least for a 
while. What you have really done 
when you say that to a man is this: 
You have prevented him from going to 

51 



52 

sleep on ymir hand!!, you have stirred 
his curiosity, you have advertised! 

As a scheme for stimulating interest 
in your line of talk it is all ri^ht Hut 
if what you then proceed to tell is some- 
thing Uiat you rtally want to have kept 
secret, tl)c plan is a poor one. If you 
have information that you don't want 
people to spread around — keep it to 
yourself. 

The tn>uhle with a human l>eing who 
hears a thing in confidi-ncc is often this 
— he can't rememlK-r that he heard it in 
confidence. lie rememlxTs the item of 
news, providing it is juicy enough, hut 
the fact that he heard it in confidence 
dnips out of mind, and then he In^gins to 
tell it around. Telling a thing in con- 
fidence is a little like handing a man a 
jewi-l in an enveloiK*. and at the same 
time warning him to take as good care 
of the envelojM* as he takes of tlie jewel. 



53 

Everything goes all right for a while. 
But by and by the envelope wears out. 
It is a flimsy sort of thing anyway. 
And so there comes a time when the en- 
velope, having grown thin and weak and 
frayed at the edges, slips off or is cast 
off and nothing remains but the jewel. 
How did I acquire all this wisdom on 
the subject of confidential communica- 
tions? I will tell you. I acquired it 
recently in the School of Experience. 
About three months ago I told some- 
thing in strict confidence to a friend — a 
man of the highest character — one who 
would not injure me intentionally for 
the world. But (and this is what gave 
me a jar) he went and lost the green en- 
velope, for yesterday he called at my 
ofBce, carefully closed the door, drew his 
chair near to mine, and in a low voice 
told ME in "strictest confidence" ex- 
actly the same thing that I had told him ! 



Some Mi^hti/ Good Sal- 

a?ics ^o to Men Who 

would Almost as soon 

IVork for Nothing 



AI-^niEXD of iiniu- who is as 
l;<h»(I a mail in his line as any- 
body in tlir riiitcd States sU^xX in my 
office a few (lays a^o niul snid a surpris- 
ing thing. 1 had Uon ctunph men ting 
him on one of his latest achie\*ements. 
His face lighted up as he remarked: 
"Of course I got a lot of money for that 
job, but between you and mc I 'd do 
these things for nothing if I could n*t 
get anylKxly to pay me for them. I 'd 
rather do them tlian eat. It 's a shame 

to take the money. Don't give me 

M 



55 

away, or they 11 be asking me to cut 
down my price and I '11 be doing it." 

That sounds like bunk. But wait a 
minute. Think clear through the prop- 
osition. This man will never be cutting 
down his price at all. It is exactly the 
other way around with him — and he 
knows it. The truth is that his income 
goes on rising — because those he works 
for keep bidding up for his services. 
What he meant was that he has found 
the secret of progress and enjoyment — 
namely, a field of activity to which he is 
suited and in which he is so interested 
and happy that he works as if he were 
playing. No wonder he performs mir- 
acles ! Naturally he is glad to have the 
large sums of money he earns. They 
are a sort of crude measurement of his 
efficiency. They show in a rough way 
how other people estimate his value. 
But the main point is that he has found 



56 

hk nielie and timt hv coiuxntrntr^i on hii 
job for days and wct^ks at n stretch. 
All bis tiKHjght is concerned witli wbat 
be can put into bis work — not what be 
can fivi out of it. Lucky man! 

Evidently tbc same thin^^ is true of 
James A. Farrell, whose stor>' I was 
reading' the other dny. Farrell is 
President of the United States Steel 
Corporation, and is noted for bis won- 
derful menior>*. He sa>'8 tbat tbe se- 
cret of a good memor\' is interest, and 
that anylxHly can reinenilKT thin^ be is 
genuinely interesteil in. Anyway, Far- 
rell devours facts alnuit the steel luisi- 
ness — and rememlK-rs them. Now the 
chances are that Fnrrell has ^ot into tbe 
one place on cartli which he can fill tbc 
best — the presidencj' of the Steel Cor- 
poration. It is ^ * t that be would 
rather do that job for nothinf^ than l>e 
without work of a similar kind. And, 



57 

of course, it follows that he is worth 
more to the Steel Corporation than he 
would be if he were less absorbed in 
what he is doing. 

I wish I had the prescription to hand 
out that would turn every man into some 
kind and degree of a Farrell. But I 
haven't. There is only one thought I 
can suggest. The idea is simply this: 
don't fake for years and years an inter- 
est in something that bores you. Don't 
pretend all your hfe, for the sake of 
fancied appearances, to enjoy some 
form of work that you really dislike. 
Of course you should give yourself a 
fair trial at a job before throwing it up, 
because often a man learns to like some- 
thing that he did n't like when he set out. 
But you know what I mean — don't 
keep at it indefinitely. Quit and try 
something else. Cut and run before it 
is too late. 



m 

The acid ti*>t to apply to your joh is 
this: If you hail inoiuy enough to live 
on, would you stay at it without payf 
If vou ilon*t love it that much, hunt for 
another — that is, if you arc youn^ an<l 
free from the respoasihilities and ob- 
lipitions which govern older men. The 
greatest succeiijies of the world are 
"crazy" about their work. Ixx)k at 
Kdison. I^ook at Paderewski. How 
those men enjoy their jobs! Can any- 
Ixnly imapne that they love money more 
than work ! And vet each — because of 

• 

bis jealous devotion to his work — has 
been richly paid in money. Both men 
are great artists. They have found 
what thev wanted to do and stuck to it. 
Treat yourself as if vou were an artist. 
To a certain extent you pnihahly are — 
in some line — if you will avoid hliams 
and give yourself fully to your job. 



Don 't Believe Every- 
thing Your Ego 
Tells You 



TWENTY-THREE years ago 
Coxey's Army marched to Wash- 
ington. All the papers were full of it. 
Mention Coxey to anybody over thirty- 
five years old and see the understand- 
ing in his face. Know Coxey and his 
blooming army? Well, I should say 
so I Now try Coxey on men and women 
in the twenties. Just try it. It will 
open your eyes. Coxey? Who the 
blazes is Coxey? Looks of confusion 
and ignorance. 

Coxey, you see, quit advertising. 
That is, the Coxey publicity ceased, 

59 



90 

And the world has filled up with people 
who never heard of him. Millions and 
millions of them. 

That IS the way with some advertiien. 
They speak up a few times and then 
go back to their factories. There, hy 
George, we 've told 'em! And thrn old 
Father Time begins to work. ^Vnd the 
undertaker. And the parson armed 
with a marriage license. And the 
baby carriage. And rheumatism. And, 
first you know, the world is peopled with 
new bosses, new Iniyers and new house- 
keepers who never heard of you. In- 
creilible! What I — never beard of mc^ 
No, never heard of t/ou! Sorry to di:i- 
apjwint you. 

Man is provided with a large sixed 
^ga If he did n*t have it be could n*t 
stand it to live, ^^'itllollt an ego he 
would pr()l)a!)ly take one look at the 
moon and go jump in tlic lake. Now 



61 

the best thing that an ego does is to 
give you a fine feeling of permanence. 
Of course you aren't permanent, and 
your better sense tells you so. But Mr. 
Ego keeps trying to make you think 
you are. What he aims to do is to 
make you feel comfortable. Nice thing 
to have around — an ego. You need 
him in your business. But don't be- 
lieve everything he tells you. He is 
the most agreeable and ever-present liar 
on your premises. 



Now that PVe Have 

Bought Them loci's 

liury Than! 



WELL, yoa and I have ^t our 
Lil)crty Hniuls. In Iniying 
tin in I sui)|)06e we tiiink wc have con- 
fcired a great favor on Uncle Sam. 
And in a way we have. But looking at 
it atioUier way we are just plain hicky 
— luckv that a situation arose which 
compelled us, for at Kast once in our 
hves, to put soiiuthin^ aiiidc for a rainy 
day. and to put it a.sidc in the most con- 
servative and suhd form. The rate of 
interest may not look \cry bi^ to us^ 
but the principal ij 9nfe. That is the 
main thin^. John Hoc^kcfeller may 



63 

lose his wits and his coin and have to go 
to an old men's home, but those govern- 
ment bonds will still be good. They 
are backed by Uncle Sam's power to tax 
the combined assets of the nation. 
Therein lies the peculiar beauty of a 
government bond. The Government 
can do what no private corporation can 
do — it can go out and compel people to 
pour in taxes enough to enable the Gov- 
ernment to meet its obligations. North 
America would just about slide off into 
the sea before anything could happen to 
destroy the value of those bonds. 

The reason I am so emphatic about 
the importance of a sound investment 
like this is that I have been thinking 
about the ordinary man's incapacity in 
normal times to lay by and hang on to 
money. A big life insurance company 
gathered some facts about this not long 
ago. Here they are: 



S4 

Take 100 healthy imu at the age of 
8d aiid fnllnw t))( 111. At (\5 here if 
where voii will timl them: 
m will be dead. 
1 will l)e ven* rich. 

4 will be wealthy. 

5 will be 8up|M)rtiii^ thenisclvi-s !)y 

work. 
54 will Ik- <k|Kn«lcnt ujKin fricn(is» 
rilativt*s or djnrity. 

Or, to sum up, only 5 out of the 64 
living will \m: "well fixed/' The rest 
will either not have saved anytliing be- 
cause of their extrava^ncc, or they will 
have lost their eapital throu^ trying to 
make it yield an absurd return. 

In other wonls, this Liberty I^^oan is 
one of the few direct benefits to be de- 
rive<l from the Great War — but a real 
benefit nevertheless. For it encourages 
all of us to be thrift}*, and to put at least 
a part of our money into an absolutely 



65 

safe place — where its protection does 
not depend upon any individual but is 
guaranteed by the combined assets and 
earning abilities of a whole nation. 

Thank God, therefore, for the Lib- 
erty Loan. Hide those bonds and try 
to forget them. They will be pretty 
little things to dig up and show to the 
meat man when you are 65. 



A Mai! Carrier is Not 

the iJfili/ One Who 

Has to Keep on 

Delivering 



WE were talkin>^ alMHit a young 
iiKUi Irtc in New York. Said 
one: **1 '11 tell you why that chap is 
such a wonder. The minute he winds 
up one big job he goes after another. 
He wastes no time patting himielf OQ 
the back for past achievements. When 
he finishes putting something orer be 
turns anmnd and savs to himself in re* 

• 

gard to his own i>erformancc — *0h, that 
was n't nuicli. I have got to beat that 
Now I must get to work and really do 
somcUiing.* 'I'hcn !ic- pitches into a 



67 

fresh job as if he had never accomplished 
a thing in his hfe." 

In other words, you have not only 
got to do good work, but you have got 
to repeat and keep on repeating if you 
want the world to continue to respect 
you. 

The other day a famous author was 
telling me how he felt when his first 
story was accepted. He said that 
within a few minutes the thought flashed 
across his mind that he could not stop 
— but must go on. One good story 
must be followed by another and an- 
other and another — else his reputation 
would die and he would be humiliated. 
He said that the feeling was not exactly 
comfortable — ^that the prospect was in 
a way terrible. * 'Being successful," he 
said, "is not easy. The successful man 
advertises to the world that he can do 
certain things well — and he must go on 



making f^nni or buck otT tiic map. It *t 
a ^ciit .s^iisatian, a great cx|K*ricncc — 
u ortli almost oiiythiiig — but it in n't a 
snap." 

It is the aamc way in busineat. Tbe 
nalfaman wbo seta a high nuu-k has to 
go right out and licat that mark or suf- 
fer by coin|)ariM)n with his own rcconL 
He can't sit tlown in a roi*king chair and 
devote tlie rest of liis hfc to receiving 
eongrutuhitions. 

Have you ever sat in a restaurant and 
compared your job with tliat of a 
waiter? Try it sometime. Xo matter 
what your work is I am sure you will see 
the |X)int if you wntrlj the waiter and 
think how exactly his job typifies yours. 
Take, for example, my job— that of an 
editor. An echtor's job is exactly Hke 
that of a waiter. He has to go and get 
something good and bring it in. And 
after he lias brought it in he has to go 



69 

right out and get something more and 
bring that in. The minute he sits down 
or stops to talk unnecessarily with the 
guests, he ceases to give as good service 
as before. Then the guests who praised 
him a moment ago begin to growl. And 
so, almost immediately, he has turned 
from a good servant into a poor one. 

This fits any line of human activity. 
A continuous performance is what is 
wanted. Nothing else counts. 



Here is a New Suit of 

Clothes for Some Old 
Ideas 



Two ii)tcrcsiing cxprenianf htre 
a)>]>curcd in the vcmacuUr of 
bii^iiic^!> within a few years — ''selling 
yourself and **.si*lling the other fel- 
low.'* To **sell youpiclf" is to e<»nvincc 
ycnirsclf of the .souiHliu*?i,s of your own 
ideas; to "sell the other fellow" is to con- 
vince another that your position is ri^t. 
He is absolutely sold on himself" and 
**IIc has sold me completely" arc fre- 
quently heard among salesmen. 

Whoever voii are, wherever vou are, 
keep on ''selling the other fellow/' 
Never let up. When younger nien, or 

70 



71 

other men, come into your office, do not 
depend on them to dig up the story of 
your greatness. In many cases they 
won't even know that such a story ex- 
ists. They will really be impressed only 
by fresh exhibits of your ability. You 
must begin with them almost as if you 
had never achieved anything, and con- 
vince them day by day that you can do 
great things. One new example of 
what you can do is more convincing to 
your associates than a whole storeroom 
full of traditions of past performances. 
Many a young man is not "sold" on his 
boss, either because the boss is played 
out and has nothing to "sell," or be- 
cause he has grown indifferent to the 
work of "selling." "Stuffed clubs" and 
"old crabs" are among the expressions 
used by the young to describe those who 
have hardened to the point where they 
think it unnecessary ever again to win 



n 

anylKMly or explain anything. '\\vy 
bccuinc law^^ivcrs — a hi>^h |>ottiion es- 
jKrcially rrscn'ctl for |K*rsons of great 
solcninitv who, wlu-n thcv fall, fall far 
enough to niakc the hight worth seeing. 

Keep on **8elling yourself.*' Keep 
your mind active and kc^p up faith in 
what your muul prcKluccs. Have en- 
thusia!un and self -confidence. Have 
illusions. Death comes when illusioni 
pass. There is n*t necessarily a funeral, 
hut death lias come jast the same. 
Without illusions you prowl around and 
Iwre people. Nothing remains to in- 
terest you. No way remains by which 
you can interest others. Did you ever 
stop to consider that |K^)ple are far 
more inten*sted in your illusions than in 
anything else alnrnt you? 

Wives must keep on "selling" their 
husliands, and huslmnds should never 
stop **jielling" their wives. Children 



73 

must "sell" their parents, and parents 
must "sell" their children. In no other 
way is confidence between human beings 
maintained. When the effort to "sell" 
stops, the tie that binds is broken. 



If This be Contempt of 

Court— Send Me 

the Bill 



HrXDREDS of thoustods of 
iiR'n iu this countn' liavc aii idea 
timt the Goveriuncnt (citj', county, 
state or national) is wasteful and in- 
efficient. Pin a lot of these men down, 
and you will find that they got that idea 
from personal ohsenations made when 
called to do jun' duty. That is alnnit 
all they know alx>ut the Govern- 
ment — l)ut that is enouirh to dis^ist 
them. 

I was recently called as a sjKrial juror 
on a ca.se here in New York. Alnnit 
sevcntv-fjve men were called on the 

74 



75 

Out of the seventy-five, twelve were to 
be selected. That is all right and neces- 
sary. But when we seventy-five men 
gathered — coming distances ranging 
from a block to ten or fifteen miles in the 
midst of a busy Monday morning — it 
was discovered that the attorney for the 
defense was not in court. He was sent 
for and when he appeared it developed 
that he had not been notified that the 
case was to be called. He and the 
Judge and the District Attorney agreed 
to an adjournment for a few days — and 
back we all went to our ofiices, having 
wasted from two to three hours apiece. 
Remember this, however: Each of us 
will get two dollars for that day's jury 
duty — although we did nothing. That 
makes one hundred and fifty dollars, 
to say nothing of the time of the court 
and the officers and the rest. 

A few days later we gathered again 



7fl 

itv-fivc men froin ull over 
New York City. Ancytber ailjcnini- 
nicnL Mure time wajitcd. One hun- 
dred and flfty dollars more to be given 
ui — for no scr\'ice — to say nothing of 
the money value of the time wasted by 
all eonetTiied. 

There was another lieautiful little ir- 
ritation: The elerk who ealletl the n»ll 
sat at a de^k fully thirty feet from Uie 
first row of jurors. He growled be- 
cause he could not hear us answer our 
names. Did it octnir to him that he 
might move fonvard to a {Ntsition where 
he couhl hear l)etter? Of course not. 
He has the hahit of doing things thus 
and so, and proluihly nothing could in- 
duce him to change. He prefers to sit 
where he is, shout his own lungs out. 
and strain his ears. 

The whole |>erfonnance was io silly 
that it was mildly enjnyahle. I tliink 



77 

every man in the room was guilty of in- 
ward contempt of court. 

Consider this additional fact : When 
we in the jury panel come finally face to 
face with the defendant, we shall very 
likely see a poor, flat-headed, mentally 
sick person, more in need of a doctor 
than he is of Sing Sing. Personally I 
hope he will turn out to be a good, 
healthy, first-class, upstanding crook. 
Then there may be some satisfaction in 
taking him in hand. Punishing sick 
folks is n't much fun. 



// 's the Encores People 

Call for that Make 
L^U^^^S DiJJicuU 



IIIA\'K long considered iiisuiiig a 
warning to liars — m) here goes. 

We are all tempted to decorate the 
tnith. Frequently the tnith is no lily — 
so we like to paint it. 

But we have another human frailty 
which, particularly when it comes to our 
wanting to tell a lie, is exceetlingly 
hotlierMHue, and tliat is our |KH)r mem- 
ories. We don*t realize how often we 
tell the same storj* twice — and we don't 
realize how hard it is to tell the same 
story twice alike, es|>ei*inlly if it is n't 
true. Vou riTall the (»ld IltMisier say- 
ing, "I reckon that a man in order to be 

TS 



79 

a good liar must have a wonderful mem- 
ory." 

There is no doubt that it is easier to 
tell the truth than it is to tell a lie and 
then try to repeat it. Test yourself on 
this. Suppose somebody asks you what 
size hat you wear. If you tell the truth 
about it you won't have any trouble an- 
swering the same question a month from 
now. But if you lie about it you may 
not recall the lie you told and so find 
yourself puzzled. 

That is how this editorial happened to 
be written — only it was n't the size of a 
man's hat that got him into trouble — but 
the size of his salary. A friend of mine 
had two interviews with a man whom he 
was considering for an important job. 
The interviews were three months apart. 
At the first interview the man was asked 
what salary he got. He mentioned a 
certain figure. At the second interview 



the tame question was asked and a dif- 
ferent figure was mentioned. It so 
hftpi>rncd that my friend's conneeti<His 
wtrr such that he omiIcI ^-t nt the truth. 
He (lid ^*t at it — nnd fcuind that )K)th 
fibres were lies. Tliat ended the ne- 
f(«)tiAtion.s f(»r the new joh. 

As a race we human Ix-in^ are pretty 
clever. We can move about the nmn- 
key cage (called the world) with con- 
siderahle ability. Hut the liars* trapexe 
is beyond the reach <»f most »»f us. We 
can*t swing up to it without great dan- 
gcr of falling and getting hurt 



If Your Ego Bothers 

You — Go Look at 

the Stars 



A CUBE one seven-thousandth ol 
an inch in diameter is a pretty 
small object. It would not choke a 
mosquito. You could not see it unless 
you used a miscroscope. Possibly, if it 
were made of the right kind of stuff, 
and if it flew into your eye, you might 
feel it. But even that is doubtful. 

Yet John A. Brashear, the great 
yet modest Pittsburgh scientist, shows 
that a little cube just that big float- 
ing around in Lake Erie takes up 
exactly as much room in the lake, by 
comparison, as our earth fills in the 
space around us, known and measured 
by astronomers, the boundaries of 

81 



which arc only as far away an thf» ncar- 
e?il ?»lar. 

This recalls Mark Twam :» great 
slor>-, •Captain Stomificlcrs Visit to 
Heaven/* whtTtin arc rccordcil the diffi- 
culties whieh the captain confn»ntetl in 
the next world wlien he trieil to explain 
where he came from. He liaid that San 
Franci-scfi was his native place. Xo- 
IkkIv in heaven h:ul heard of San Fran- 
cisco. Thru he nanieil California, and. 
ineetin>^ with no res|K)nsc, he went on 
with eonsiderahle irritation to mention 
the Tnited States and America. Xo- 
UkIv had heard <»f tliem. Finally he 
claimed the earth as his former home, 
and at last, after a long search tlmnigh 
the records of heaven, it was discovered 
that anic)!i>; the hillions ii|M»n hillions of 
stars, worlds, constellations and planets 
there was, in the <liisty tomes, a slight 
reference to an insignitieanl s|)cck 



83 

known in heaven as The Wart, and rec- 
ognized by Stormfield as our good old 
Mother Earth. 

In this connection it is also well to 
remember that the wonders of time are 
as great as the wonders of space. No- 
body knows or can even guess how long 
this Big Show has been running. Any- 
way, it is a very old show as well as a 
very large one. 

I am glad that Mr. Brashear has 
brought this matter to our attention 
again. It is a good thing once in a 
while to be set right on our comparative 
importance in the scheme of things. 
At this time it is an especially welcome 
and refreshing bit of comment. For 
one thing, it makes the Emperor of 
Germany seem less important. Also, it 
will help us to pass through the egotism 
and dogmatism of political campaigns 
with better perspective and more 



huliuir. Furthennore» the hardihipt 
we have to endure may be nothing Cmii- 
pare^l with those which arc pestering tin: 
inhaljilaiilii of otlicr worlds, who, for all 
wc kn<»w, rnav Ixr e\'cn more sclf-ccn- 
tcrcd and senjiitivc tlian we — thougli 
this sn*u\s hardly |>ossiblc. 

'1 : kiiowlctlgc of the stars helps to 
keep one's ego in pnjjK-r rejitraiiil is deni- 
onslratctl in tlie case of Mr. Brashear 
himself. ft»r in ail Piltshurgh there 
i.Hn'l a man with less ego than lie, 
TIkv all call him 'rnclc John." Any- 
iMMly. from the mayor down to tJic 
tiniest newslxiy <m Smithtield .Street, 
will swear to you that he is the biggest 
man in tlie cit)'— and the simplest and 
most attractive. Street-car motomien 
and i-onductcjrs spy the old gentleman a 
hlcK'k away and hold up tralFic (or the 
privilege of getting him as a passenger. 
lliey love him because he loves them — 



85 

and because arrogance and superiority 
are totally absent from his make-up. 
From studying the stars "Uncle John" 
has learned humility. 



Money Talks — lint 

There arc Other 

Speakers 



How would you like • $25,000 • 
year jcib f I suppose you think 
vou would likr it n lot. But would vou 
like it f Would y<ni enjoy the work 
voii would have to do in order to earn 
that nmrh salar)? Would you be will- 
ing to |>ay what it c^osts to become a 
$S5,000 a year man f 

This brin^ us to an interesting fact 
about the human animal — namely, his 
way of prrt ending sometimes to am- 
bitions which he does not possess. Ask 
almost any man in the United States 
to-day whether he would like a job pay- 



87 

ing $25,000 a year, and he will tell you 
yes — vehemently and with evident sin- 
cerity. But in ninety-nine cases out of 
one hundred he would not really mean 
it. He would like the money — yes — 
but to earn it by giving a corporation 
the price which it asks in return for 
that much money would not suit him at 
all. 

In spite of the apparent lure of 
money, the great mass of human beings 
are not lured by it so much as they are 
lured by other things. They think 
they are, but they aren't. Men get 
their orders from within themselves, not 
from without. And often the inward 
desires which control men are so power- 
ful that they make the "almighty dol- 
lar" look mighty weak. Frequently 
laziness is in command, in which case a 
rocking chair seems more valuable than 
the presidency of a railroad. Some- 



88 

tunes whisky Is Uic U>hs. Wc all know 
men who sacrifice giMnl inoMnt s in unlvr 
to liavc lots of time for drink. In mil- 
lions of oilier casvH men dchUTatcly 
choose jobs whidi do not pay well in 
money, although they pay enormously 
in other forms of satisfaction. Men are 
ooostantly deciding ngiiinst the scram* 
lile for money and in favor of a quiet 
life, or a life devoted to teaching or sci- 
ence or pul)lir ser\ice, or a life tlevotetl 
to some otlier UM*ful enthusiasm which 
lias no si>eeial cash value. 

11)c truth is that most men luvc no 
taste for the duties that go with the big- 
gest salaries. The man who is worth 
3?25,()00 a year to a wrjHiration nuist be 
willing to work evenings nnd holidays. 
lie must Ik? ready to upset all |)ersonal 
plans if buiiiness culls him. He must be 
ready at a moment's notice to give up 
Stniflay with his family and sjiend it in 



89 

a railway trip to another city for a Mon- 
day morning conference. In his office 
he must also bear the brunt. He must 
be eager to take responsibility and be 
ready to make hard and unpleasant de- 
cisions. He must have real zest for 
tough, irritating problems. And he 
cannot hide behind others. Big pay en- 
velopes go only to those down in front 
where the eggs are thrown. 



Considering Who 

Grandpa rcas We're 

\ut So Bad 



WHEN I was about ten yean 
old 1 went to an auimal bhow 
where there were tiftcen or twenty mon- 
keys, mostly small, in one cage. lUit 
amon^ them there wa.s one ver\' large 
monkey, f<nir or \\\v times as big as any 
of the others. I don't know who in- 
vitee! him. or how he eame to lie there, 
hut he madf his prescnee felt, a^ we sliall 
see. 

When feeding time eame. the keeper 
apiK*are<l with a large hiindle of cah- 
hage leaves which he thrrw into the cage, 
a few at a time. I then saw the ad van- 



91 

tage of being a large monkey in a cage 
filled with small monkeys, for as fast as 
the keeper threw the leaves into the cage 
the big monkey grabbed them and held 
onto them. When some of the little 
monkeys criticized him, he merely 
showed his teeth and went on with his 
work. 

After he had acquired all the leaves 
that had been thrown into the cage he 
gathered the whole supply together into 
a pile and sat on top of the pile. Then 
he ate all that he wanted — and perhaps 
more than he wanted. He did not eat 
all the leaves that had been passed into 
the cage because his stomach would not 
hold so many, but he did his best. After 
he had swallowed what he could, he lost 
interest, yawned and walked away. 
Then the little monkeys scampered to 
the remaining pile of leaves and got 
what was left — but not without all sorts 



of bickerings and inequalities among 
thcmaelvcs. 

Although Uk' Im^ nxnikcy niatic hiin- 
aeir un|>o|)iilar, Ixith inside And fiutMik- 
the cage, he was not .si-nsitive alNHit it. 
Indii'd, why .should he l>c'f Inside the 
cage, where he iindcrstcxHl the Ungtiage, 
size and strength were Uie only things 
worth having. There was n't a monkey 
on the premises that did not really envy 
him — not a monkey that did not wish to 
be like hint. Outiiide the cage were 
a lot of two-leggt^l gnnnlilers resem- 
hVmii nionkevs — hut why w()rr>- about 
tlieir unintelligible niutterings, espe- 
cially since they were safely sliut off 
• • • 

fnim the cabbage leaves by good sub- 
stantial Imrs! 

Perhaps this little sXnry of !»rute force 
antl lira/en selfishness will remind you 
of some huinnii In-iiig who makes nn 
occasional bad hhowiiig. l)on*t Ik* too 



93 

hard in your judgments, however. Be 
patient. You must not blame men if 
they show monkey characteristics once 
in a while. You know what that fa- 
mous high-brow Darwin and his suc- 
cessors have taught us — that men and 
monkeys descended from the same an- 
cestor, namely, a certain brand of ape. 
The work of transforming us from apes 
began four or five million years ago, but 
I would not go so far as to say that the 
job has been entirely finished. Lots of 
time will be required. It takes more 
than a jiffy to get off one's all fours. 
This word "human," you know, is a 
comparatively recent degree that has 
been conferred upon us. 



It 2S Hard to Tell How 

Niunh a Youn^ 

Skull is 



Wl I AT lias become of UlanciiAni 
KiplfV JaiiK*sf I/4>ng api \\v 
was a hi^h-srh(M»l rlAssiiiatc of mine out 
ill Ohio, and now he is h)st. The oUkt 
day I found that thi-y were advertising 
for his post-<)fY{(X! aihlress in the villa^pc 
pa]>er haek home. It sct^ms that for 
years and years he clerked in a store in 
fJrand Uaj)ids, after whieh he ti>rfitene<l 
up his iK'lt strap and made a dive into 
the Gnat West — with what success n(v 
bo<ly knows. 

\Vtil, sir, T could not believe it. 
lilanchard Uipley James lost? Never! 



•u 



95 

Why, he was the boy we voted as the 
one among us with the brightest future. 
The greatest things were predicted for 
him. He looked Hke Daniel Webster, 
kept his hair brushed, beat us all at our 
studies, took more interest in school 
than anybody — and, above all, how he 
could wag his jaw! He was the best 
speaker of pieces that ever walked up 
the steps to the rostrum of the Second 
Congregational Church. On gradua- 
tion night he was our prize exhibit. 
The rest of us looked foolish beside him, 
and felt foolish. Our only pride lay in 
the fact that for the moment our names 
were printed on the program with his 
and we were going to receive just as 
good an imitation sheepskin diploma as 
he. But of course we expected that on 
the morning after graduation the gulf 
between him and us would begin to 
widen, and would increase until he 



06 

would Ik* talking tin tlic floor of Uie 
L'liitrd Statfs Sciinto, and wc, with our 
wiviii and childrvn, wcxdd Ik* sittin^^ in 
the visitors' ^illcry Imppy in our 
membership in the **I-knrw-!nm-w!i<r) 
Chihr 

Hut the whole thin>( hju shifted. 
You can pn^c the United States Sen- 
ate, and even the House of Kepresenta- 
tives, and you won't find him. He is 
not there. Hlanehard simply did not 
come thnui^h with the uallnp. 

What ia the answer f The answer is 
that vouth is alwnvs a mvster>% You 
simply cannot |)iek winners that early. 
You cannot distinguish iK'tween the 
able and the stupid, the slip|HTy and the 
honest, the playful and the vicious, the 
imitative and the ori^riital. the weak and 
the strong, the a^>n^ssive and the sen- 
ile, the ambitious and the complacent. 
Youth is a period of uncertainty and 



97 

hope. This is one reason why fathers 
and mothers are so happy over their chil- 
dren. Nobody knows what great sur- 
prise is in store. The slowest-appear- 
ing child in the family may {may, mind 
you) turn out to be the wonder of the 
world. At any rate, the neighbors had 
best not point the finger of scorn — not 
yet, not yet! For if they do they may 
have to take it back. 

And so, clear up to commencement 
night, and for some time after, fathers 
and mothers can claim great things for 
every child in the family — and nobody 
will dare dispute them. Of course, the 
world will finally call for a show-down, 
but when it does those who might be in- 
terested in the results are themselves 
lost, or scattered so far that it would 
take an explorer to find them and carry 
them the news. 

Some boys die in youth — thus pre- 



fcn'in>( forever the iiiysier)' as to Uicir 
hidden taleiiU. rsuullv it is said of 
hUi'li that thc-y were hri^^ht mid remark- 
able, with a K^^'at future Inrfore them. 
We all uorship jiuixf?4» — even Kiting to 
far as to worship it where it docs rv>f 
yet exist. 

So get your uliite vest ironed and lie 
ready for tlu- ^rachiatin^ exercises when 
they e<»ine. \'ou cannot tell who will be 
there. It may Ih* the coming Thomas 
A. K<lison, or it may l)e the coming con- 
ductor on the Kast C'olh'i^ Street car 
line. 



/ JVill Hang' This on 

Balboa — Because He 

Has Had His Fun 

and is Dead 



THE other night I read in my eve- 
ning paper that Balboa had dis- 
covered the Pacific Ocean four hun- 
dred and three years ago that day. At 
first I swallowed the statement — as any 
human being in good and regular stand- 
ing would be likely to do. But the mo- 
ment I began to think it over I experi- 
enced an inward chuckle. Who gave 
Balboa the idea that he was the first to 
find the Pacific? And what made the 
rest of us pin a medal on him for an 
honor he never deserved? Don't we 

99 



100 

know— if wc stop to coowdcr— Uiat the 
I'adfic Occaii wm diioovcrcd and for- 
gotten l)y countless >c^-ncnitioii» before 
Halljoa was bomf The tnitli is that 
Balboa, instead of UinK the first to dis- 
cover the Pacific, was one of the last 

We arc wonderful creatures— wc hu- 
man l)cinffs— wlien wc k>vc way fully to 
lla egt) that is in us. Wc imagine tliat 
the whole earthly show began with us, 
and that it is going t«> end with us. We 
think our experieiuxHi are new. pecidiar 
and exclusive. I f our teeth ache we say 
that our teeth are es|K*cially sensitive. 
When we compare notes on the advan- 
tages of various shaving utensils wc say 
we can't use this or that because our 
beards are particidarly stiff. If wc 
shiver on a raw day we say that tec arc 
peculiarly susceptible to ctild— that no- 
bodv ever suffers with the ct»ld as xcc do. 
I know a man who saw Joe Jefferson 



101 

play Rip Van Winkle. I saw him play- 
it, and so did millions of others. Jef- 
ferson played the part 6,000 times. 
But to hear my friend talk you would 
think that Joe never really rose up and 
became equal to the role except once — 
and that was the night he saw it. 

Yes, we like the feeling that we are 
the first — the only onlys — the favored 
few. We never get it into our heads 
that the earth is a very old apartment — 
inhabited by untold generations of ten- 
ants, each of which repapers and re- 
paints the place in an effort to prove 
that it owns the premises. Of course 
we admit academically that there were 
others before us, but we don't honestly 
beheve it. Take, for example, Ham- 
murabi, Rameses, Ptolemy and Plu- 
tarch. Those were men of our own com- 
parative generation, yet they are not 
real to us. Down in our hearts we 



w. iiUi never credit them with Imving M 
tivc teeth as wc have. And it U a 
certainty that they never enjoyed any- 
thing a« «"i»^'l> «^ ^^' ^^^ ^''^ ^^- 
suffer with tlic c<»ld. 

And yet tins wonderful little ego is 
the only tiling we have worth poiaeit- 
ing. If, clear reader, your name be 
IUnr>- Smith, the fates when they «et 
you down in our midst might well have 
instnictrd you a.s follows: 

*'Xow, Henry, rememher that there 
is nothing new in the world hut ytni. 
All the rest is old. Here arc the old 
jfrease-stained hlocks for you to play 
^vith— the old ideas and the old facts— 
which billions of men have played with 
Infore vou. and built into stnictures 
which lx)re the stamp of their own 
individuality. Build. Henry, build. 
Make the best out of the materials that 
you can. But, above all. put yaunelf 



103 

■^— "— ■"• 

into the work. Don't imitate, don't 
copy. Your orly chance is to be your- 
self. What you do is the best that you 
can contribute. You can't add any- 
thing to the show but Henry Smith. 
Make sure that you really add him." 

And there you are. 

Egos are all right. They are the best 
thing we have — ^our most valuable asset. 
And yet they furnish the biggest laugh. 



